The Day I Ran into The Doctor
by Taylor Oswin-Oswald
Summary: Chapter 3 of my first fan-fiction Please forgive any and all grammar/spelling mistakes. The biggest challenge was writing for the 11th Doctor so please let me know what needs to improve :) Rated K for mild language Enjoy!


**Chapter 3**

The warm summer air blows through my hair. I run my digits through it, straightening the short, and pixie style cut. I cut it short when I moved to the city to work as a nurse. Less hassle, less time spent washing and drying.

I woke up this morning around ten o'clock; there was a fresh brew in the coffee maker and a note from Liza:

'Forgot that I promised to watch my sister's kids today. Remember that I am just a phone call away. ~Liza'

After a hot cup of coffee and a shower, I decided to take y bike out for an hour ride or so.

That was three hours ago.

Once I got started, the feeling of the wind and the warmth of the sun overwhelmed me, and I lost track of time. When I'm cycling, I feel free, in control of my life even though I know I'm not.

When I finally do stop for a sip of water, I'm at the River Themes. I park my bike on a nearby rack and walk over to the railing. The wind hits the water and blows cool air on my face, which is hot and sweaty from my ride. I'll have to shower again when I get home. To my left are two young lovers, caressing each other's hands as they throw pennies into the river.

I think back to the times I spent with Mark, the careless days when it was just him and me. I feel a tugging in my chest and a tear leaks onto my cheek. I wipe it away quickly, hoping no one saw. To my right, however, a strange man in a dark hooded jacket looks at me. His hood is pulled over his head, giving me only the view of his chin and mouth. He turns and starts toward me. I turn and look in front of me, down at the water and hope he doesn't confront me.

The nearing footsteps indicate he is getting closer. I continue to look down. _Please walk past._ He leans on the railing, his body only half a meter from mine.

'I know about your problem.' He says. His voice is raspy and deep, but it sounds forced, like he's trying to disguise it. I don't respond, but I do move my eyes towards him, keeping my head facing foreword.

'You can ignore me if you want,' he continues. 'But without me the nightmares won't go away.'

My heart skips a beat. I turn my head rapidly, looking at the hooded figure.

'Who the hell are you?' I demand, my voice not as steady as I would have liked.

'Who I am is not of importance. What I have to say is.'

'And what makes you think I'll listen to you?'

The faint image of his mouth available to me stretches into a grin.

'Because,' he smirks. 'If you weren't somewhat intrugued, you would have cycled away by now.'

I take a deep breath. He has a point. My God he has a point! My better judgment tells me to run. Grab my bike and run. But that adventurous part of me, that voice that constantly tells you to take a risk, talks louder.

'What do you want?'

'To help.' He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a folded piece of paper. 'Take this, go to the address written on it, and wait.'

I leave my arms on the railing. The inner battle between common sense and adventure growing stronger by the second.

'Katie,' he says. _He knows my name? _'Take the paper. What have you got to lose?'

I gingerly reach for the paper. He presses it into my palm and turns on his heels, walking off.

I eagerly open the paper and my hands begin to shake.

Big Ben

I look up, calling out in protest. The man is halfway across the bridge. If I don't run now I won't catch him.

'Wait!' I call out, running towards him. A woman on a bicycle rams into me, knocking me over. I stand up and call after her; 'Watch where you're going mate!' She doesn't look back at me, doesn't stop. She simply raises her arm and waves. I turn to go after the man but he is gone. I've lost him.

I glance down at the paper. My heart pounds in my ears. I keep hearing the man's last statement; 'What have you go to lose?' _What have I got to lose?_ I fold the paper up and shove it into my pocket as I march toward my bike.

_Nothing._

I sit on a bench, my hands wedged between my bouncing legs. My heart pounds as I wait.

I look at my watch.

5:00pm

I've been sitting here for almost an hour.

_What are you doing here Katie? _I ask myself. _ Are you so desperate that you'd trust a strange man with a hood and a note? But, he did know my name, and about my nightmares. Maybe I should trust him?_

I rest my elbows on my knees and burry my face in my hands. _What am I doing here?_

That's when I hear it. The grinding sound, the same one from my nightmare. I slowly raise my face and feel the wind pick up, blowing hard on my face.

A blue box materializes in front of me…out of thin air!

I slowly stand.

The box becomes solid, like it's fully here from wherever it came from.

I walk towards it, and the texture becomes clearer the closer I get.

Wood.

I rub my finger tips gingerly across it's surface, thinking it should be hot or cold or something! It's just wood. Nothing more.

The doors burst open and I jump back. A tall, thin man wearing a purple suit and bow tie emerges from inside. His thick, brown hair is combed over; creating a 'quiff' atop is head. His slender face and prominent chin draw my eyes towards his face. He looks at me, making eye contact.

'Hello!' He says cheerfully. 'What can I do for you?'

I look away, and back at the box.

'It's real,' I breathe. 'It's actually real!' My eyes burn. If something this impossible really exists, then my nightmares _are_ visions. The reality of this realization overwhelms me. I drop to my knees and sob. The man kneels down beside me. He holds his hands awkwardly at his chest, not knowing what to do with them. Eventually he places a hand on my back and rubs it gently.

'Hey,' he says, his once lively voice is now soft, solemn and kind. 'Are you alright?'

I shake my head. 'I'm going to die,' I blurt out, my cheeks wet with tears, my nose running.

'What?' He moves his hand from my back to my shoulder. 'Why do you say that?'

'My nightmare, I dreamt I would die. This box was there. It's all true.' I know I make no sense but I am too emotional to create any clear thoughts and/or sentences. He seems to understand me however, because he leans in close and says, almost in a whisper; 'You've dreamt of this?' He points at the box.

I nod, wiping my nose on the heel of my hand. He exhales dramatically and rises, helping me to my feet.

'This is extraordinary!' He says, looking from me to the box and back to me.

'Why?' I ask.

'People don't normally dream of this-unless I've met them of course. People I've met tend to never forget me, and why would they? I mean, this isn't one of my greatest faces but, I have to say, it's not bad.'

I look at him, not registering much of anything he says, his manner of speaking is quick, witty, and almost directed towards himself more than the person he is actually talking with.

He looks at me and clears his throat. 'I've never met you. I know that for a fact because I _never _forget a face. Nine hundred years and I could put all the names in my head with the proper faces, except for the Silence of course, partly because they all look the same, and partly because you forget ever seeing them once you look away…anyway,' he claps his hands together and takes me by the hand. 'Lets you and I have a chat about these dreams of yours eh?'

I pull my hand away. 'I don't want to,' I say, backing away. 'I don't want to.' My voice cracks and I feel the sobs coming back. I swallow them and cover my mouth with my hand.

The man walks towards me, slowly, his eyes gazing at mine. His face looks so young, so lively, but his eyes-they look as though they have seen many things over many lifetimes. How can that be?

'I'm here to help you,' he says. 'How's about trusting me?'

I don't want to acknowledge that these nightmares might hold some truth. I'm not ready to admit that truth. I may never be ready. Then again, is one ever ready to accept death?

'It was a dream,' I snap.

'Yes,' he replied, eying me intensely. 'A dream in which you saw me and my TARDIS.'

'A coincidence.' I say.

He takes my hand. I should pull away, but there is something about his eyes that make me _want_ to trust him.

'If there is one thing I've learned,' he says, smiling. 'It's "never ignore a coincidence."'


End file.
